Reincarnation
by Alyce Reide
Summary: He has been reborn again and again, only to lose the love of his life each time. Now, his memories returned at the age of sixteen, Draco might have a chance- if she doesn't hate him already. Possibly OOC, but generally canon through book 7 (canon epilogue doubtful).
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Hello, my favorite people! I'm new to HP fanfiction, and I haven't managed to read the books recently, so let me know if anyone's OOC, OK? Cool.**

**If this is your first time reading one of my stories, hi! I hope you like it! If you're here because of Authority, hi again! This is a *tad* different...slightly darker maybe...but I plan to include some funnies, too, don't worry!**

**And yes, this is short. I think most _Reincarnation_ chapters will probably be short, but we'll see. Let me know if you think of any more past lives I should include!**

* * *

My name was Arthur. I was a proud king, though I became a drunkard after Guinevere left me for Lancelot. I killed my _best friend_ and my _wife_ for my stupid jealousy. But it didn't end there.

My name was Paris. A young, handsome count, I could have had my pick of girls. But there was only ever one girl for me, and she hated me so much, she died rather than choose marriage to me.

My name was Erik. Famous architect… more famous assassin. I kidnapped the love of my life, forced her to marry me only to lose her to Lancelot- _again_.

My name is Draco. Snotty and selfish, yet merely the thought of her made me a better person. I lost her before I ever had her.

The worst part is, I can never remember until it was too late. Every life is like new, until I lose Guinevere again. _Then_ I remember.

I remembered being Arthur only the moment of Juliet's death. Christine's wedding.

Funnily enough, this life is the only one where losing her isn't directly related to _her_. In this life, it's not my fault I remembered.

It seems to happen in slow motion. I hear my own voice cry out, but perhaps that's only in my head. Five words circle in my head: _too late_ _you've lost her too late you've lost her too_

Who is _her_?

And the memories of dead men come rushing in.

* * *

**A/N: So. What did you think? Remember, reviews make my day! (Especially since I haven't read HP in awhile...I hope Draco isn't too OOC!)**

**P. S. If you voted for Reincarnation on the poll, this first chapter is dedicated to you! Love and all-I've been wanting to post this ever since the idea grabbed my brain and started yelling "WRITE ME NOW! WRITE ME NOW!"**

**So yes. The idea is also grateful. It would be very happy if I could get 5 reviews before the next chapter.**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: So, I mostly just have a few key scenes in my head, and I'm writing them the way I remember them. If you remember them differently, please don't yell at me about it unless you check the book first and I wrote it wrong. Thanks!**

**(I will update when I can. Unfortunately, after this, that will not be daily. Sorry. School.)**

**Disclaimer: I am not a millionaire. Therefore, I am not JK Rowling; therefore I do not own Harry Potter. I am, however, fond of logic, which, as you can see, tells you that I own nothing except my interpretation of the story.**

* * *

ONE

No. Nononono.

It can't be.

It is.

"_Avada Kedavra!_" Snape's voice cracks through the air like a shot.

I don't know if it's real or not when I hear myself scream "_Nooo!_"

When the most powerful wizard in the world tumbles backwards off the tower, I _know_, in my heart, it's real.

Just as surely, I know I never could have done it.

I'm disgusted with myself for being relieved.

I would have _died_.

I deserve death.

I clutch my head, curling in to myself. And _too late you've lost her too_

Oh _damn_.

I _remember_.

My Guinevere. My Juliet. My Christine. She was _never mine_, but I've lost her again.

My heart aches with loss for a girl Draco has never known, but I, I've known her for countless lifetimes.

I always lose her to Lancelot. Only, this time around, Lancelot's name is Ronald Weasley.

To think we were once best friends. At least he didn't deceive me like that when we were Paris and Romeo, or Erik and Raoul.

A thought pierces through me as I struggle to my feet: Even if I could show my love for her, even if she were not lost to me forever, Father would never allow me to bring a Muggle-born home.

_Oh_.

I regret all those times I called her _Mudblood_. _I swear, I will never use that vile word again, even in my thoughts_.

I owe her that much, at least.

"_Hermione Granger_," I whisper her name under my breath. How could I never have noticed its music before?

"What was that?" Snape barks.

I shake my head. "N-nothing."

Snape nods and starts towards the stairs. I know I'm supposed to follow him. I need to. I have to pretend that nothing is wrong, act like I haven't just had my entire world ripped from under my feet.

Shouldn't be _too_ hard. I've been doing that my whole life.

* * *

R

* * *

I walk into a battle.

I have to wear a mask, I know. If they don't believe I still follow the Dark Lord, they will eat me alive.

I hate him even more now that I know the truth: My whole life was a lie. I've never _really_ been the boy they all thought I was, the Death Eater in the making. How could I have been?

I've always been Arthur. And Arthur would have opposed the Dark Lord, even if it cost him his life. Even if he died for it.

Paris was too noble to ever lie. He would have admitted the truth and died for it, though he would have brought the Dark Lord down with him.

Erik… Erik would have done anything for Christine- his Guinevere. His Hermione. He would have fought for her.

But I am Draco. And Draco is too weak.

I fire a Killing Curse at red hair. I don't care who it is; it doesn't matter. She'll never forgive me anyways.

I miss on purpose, shooting a Death Eater over the Weasley's shoulder. I can't do that too often, or they'll suspect something, but I'll do what I can.

* * *

**A/N: Did you enjoy these two chapters? If there's anything (up to and including misplaced commas and capitalizations), let me know! I am a huge fan of constructive criticism. Not flames, though. Please don't say anything negative about my stories unless you're suggesting how I can improve. Thanks!**

**(Goal: 5 reviews, then next chapter. Deal?)**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: I know this isn't word-for-word from the book. I had Deathly Hallows out and open to the correct scene while writing this, so I could be sure I got everything write, but frankly I'm getting tired of fics that quote the book/movie exactly. If you're just reading the original dialogue, why are you reading? To see it from a different perspective? To see how someone reacts to it? Boring. **

**Anyway, this is all the same things happening, and the gist of the dialogue is essentially the same, but the words are different. Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: Logic dictates that I am not JK Rowling. Ignore logic if you want to pretend I am, but you'd be deluding yourself.**

* * *

TWO

_several months later_

They've been captured. I stare at Potter's face, bloated nearly beyond recognition.

"Is it him?" Mother asks. "Draco, is that Harry Potter?"

_That's not my name!_ I scream mentally. _I am not Draco!_

I don't _want_ to be Draco.

Hermione stands beside and behind Potter, ready to defend him if need be. Her hand twitches toward Weasley's.

I tear my eyes from her hand. Her perfect fingernails. "I-I'm not sure."

Her eyes widen, then she regains control. She stares at me, as if wondering why I didn't betray them.

_Because I-_ But I can't even form the thought. What's the use of loving someone who hates you?

_No use_, Erik's memory tells me. _Even when you were once her Angel, her entire world, she forgot you the minute Raoul arrived, dripping with anger. Also water._

_She never cared for you_, Paris says. _There was only Lance. Romeo, thou villain Romeo._

_No_, I argue silently with my memories. _No, she loved Arthur once. She did. I_ remember _that. There was love in our marriage, once._

God. I'm sixteen, and I remember being married.

I blink rapidly as another thought hits me. I'm _sixteen_, and I remember _dying_. Not just once, but _hundreds_ of times.

"...Draco." I become aware of Father's voice. "Draco, look closer. Are you _sure_? If we hand Potter to the Dark Lord, we will be forgiven!"

Fenrir Greyback snarls. "_I_ caught him, don't forget."

"Of course not," Father says impatiently.

I can feel my eyes burning as I look at her, head lowered so no one can see me watching. I tell myself I'm only...only…

I can't even come up with an excuse. If someone decides to use Legilimency on me right now, I'm screwed.

"Draco!" Father barks again. "Look properly!"

I come closer, make a show of peering at Potter's disgustingly bloated face. "I don't know."

"We need to be sure, before we summon him," Mother cautions Father. "Remember Rowle and Dolohov?"

"The Mudblood?" Greyback growls, shoving Hermione into the light. He leers at her. I can force my hands to remain unclenched (_I hate you how can you do that to my Guinevere NEVER CALL HER MUDBLOOD_), but my breath still catches (_she is so, so beautiful, how is she so lovely even filthy and terrified_).

"Wait. Draco, isn't that Granger?" Mother asks. Her tone makes it clear she already knows the answer.

"I…" I don't want to answer. If I answer, what will happen to her? But...Mother already knows. "Maybe…?"

"Then that's Weasley! Arthur Weasley's son!" Father barks. "Draco, look, isn't it?"

There's no point in denying it any longer. I turn, unable to face her. She'll only think it's Draco being snotty, selfish Draco, but _I_ remember. "I guess."

"What is this?"

My head jerks up. Aunt Bella? _Damn_.

Aunt Bella stops in front of Hermione. "This is the Mudblood? Granger?"

I drop my head and press my hands to my sides to hide my fists and the fury in my eyes. _Don't call her that. Her name is HermioneChristineJulietGuinevere. Don't call her Mudblood. She may be Muggle-born, but she is so much more than her birth!_

"We must inform the Dark Lord!" Aunt Bella shrieks, pulling up her sleeve.

Father grabs her arm. "It is _my_ house. _I_ shall call him. My house, my author-"

"You lost your authority with your wand! Hands off me!"

_They're fighting again._ I look through my lashes at Hermione and pretend I'm somewhere else, somewhere I can talk to her, in a world where she doesn't hate me.

I've almost managed to forget where I am and who my family is when Mother's words catch my attention.

"Take them down to the cellar," Mother orders Greyback.

"Wait," Aunt Bella snaps. "All except the Mudblood."

Greyback smirks and starts to comply.

_No. No. NO!_ I'd scream, but, strangely enough, I'd be able to help her even less if anyone knows I love her.

"No!" Ron shouts. "Take me instead!"

_Do what you will to me, only free her!_

Typical Lancelot, sacrificing himself for Guinevere. Usually, I despise that habit of his, but now, I'm too terrified for her to care. _Yes. Take him instead. Take him._

"If she dies-" I wince, screaming inside "-I'll take you next. Greyback, secure them but leave them unharmed. For now."

I moan, chewing my lip and watching the boys dragged away. I want to leave. I know I can't help her now. But I can't leave my love to suffer alone, even if she doesn't know I love her.

I can't watch her hurt.

I can't leave her.

I taste blood and realize I've bitten through my lip.

* * *

**A/N: Seriously, 5 reviews? I got impatient, so I posted this too soon, but I'm posting as I write so no guarantee when the next one will be out. But you can help! Reviews = inspiration, don't forget. Anyone who reviews this chapter, next chapter is dedicated to you! (This chapter is for my only reviewer so far, Elizabeth. Thanks, and I hope you enjoyed this one! Also for Reincarnation's followers- thanks you guys!)**

**There's a story poll on my profile. Please check it out and vote! Whatever has the most votes next time I post a new story will be posted.**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Elizabeth, thank you so much for reminding me about Dobby! I'd actually not thought that through until your review. Also, thank you for making me think about the memory thing! All will be revealed eventually...once I've thought of the right explanation... (And I've never seen LND. None of the Phantom stuff in this has anything to do with LND, only with the original- and my imagination decides what comes after.)**

**Disclaimer: I actually own some of this dialogue, since I'm not quoting directly from the books! There are bonuses to everything, you see?**

* * *

THREE

I watch helplessly as my aunt drags the girl I love into the middle of the room by her hair. I barely notice Potter and Weasley being led away, but I know Weasley is fighting to stay as if it's me.

Aunt Bella's lips draw into a dark smile, and my heart sinks below my feet. "_Crucio_," she says calmly.

Hermione screams. Long and loud.

I-I can't...I can't...show anything...can't show I love her, or I'll be tortured with her and have no chance to save her. I c-can't let her be tortured. _What do I do?_

_"HERMIONE!"_ comes faintly from the basement. _"HERMIONE! HERMIONE!"_

It's Weasley- Ron, I suppose- voicing the tension in every line of my body.

"Where did you get the sword?" Aunt Bella demands. "Gryffindor's sword is in _my_ vault. Where did you get this?"

"We found it- PLEASE!" Hermione screams. My fists clench tighter, and my breathing quickens. My jaw is starting to hurt, but it's nothing, _nothing_, compared to what she's going through.

I know the pain of the Cruciatus Curse. I can't imagine what torture it must be, over and over, with Aunt Bella's hatred behind it every time.

"Filthy lying Mudblood!" Aunt Bella snarls. "Tell the truth! You have been inside my Gringotts vault! What else did you take? What else? Tell the truth, or I'll run you through!"

I wince as Aunt Bella brandished her dagger at Hermione.

"Tell me what you took, TELL ME! _CRUCIO_!"

Hermione screams again. The only thing stopping me from knocking my aunt over and taking her wand, or throwing myself between Hermione and the curse, is the knowledge that I'm the only one who can stop her pain. If I could just think _how_…

"_Crucio, crucio, crucio!_ How did you get in? Did that dirty goblin help you?"

Between sobs, Hermione forces out, "W-we only just met him, we've never been in your vault...i-it's a copy, not the real sword!"

_Even while being tortured, my Guinevere is brave,_ I marvel. Harry Potter would never travel with a copy of Gryffindor's sword.

"A likely story!"

"We can easily find the truth," Father says smoothly. "Draco, fetch the goblin."

I swallow. "Y-yes, Father." I peel myself off the wall and start for the cellar.

I pause on the steps, an idea coming to me. Our old house-elf...he worships Potter. "Dobby," I whisper. "Dobby, I know you hear me. I used to be part of your family. Harry Potter is in danger, Dobby."

I don't know if the elf will believe me, but I know he heard me. For now, that has to be enough. I continue down the steps.

"_They mustn't know it's real, Griphook_!" I hear Potter hiss inside the cellar.

I gather my resolve, but I can still hear my voice shaking. "Get against the back wall. If you try anything, I'll kill you."

I hope I sound convincing enough.

I unlock and open the door, and march in as if I actually care about what I'm doing. I take the goblin's arm, trying to hold him tightly enough that it looks real and gently enough that I don't hurt him, and back out. Just as I shut the door, I hear a loud _crack!_

Dobby believed me.

"DOB-" Ron starts. I smirk. Stupid Weasley can't keep quiet to save his life.

_No,_ I admonish myself, pulling the goblin up the stairs. _Weasley may be a complete idiot, but we share a goal. Do not put him down, even mentally, until Hermione is safe._

She screams again, as if to drive home the point.

I gulp, and begin dragging the goblin up the stairs as fast as his stunted legs will carry him.

"She means something to you," the goblin says softly.

I don't look at him. "Breathe a word, and I kill you."

The goblin digs in his heels. I pull harder still when I hear her scream again, but the little beast is, contrary to his size and my strength, immovable.

_Crack!_

I reach the top of the stairs just as Father asks, "What was that noise in the cellar?"

I shove the goblin at him and turn to go back down. Better me than someone who'll discover Dobby and stop them from escaping.

"Draco, no," Father says. "Send Wormtail." A moment later, he calls, "Wormtail! Go check the cellar."

The ratlike man scurries to do Father's bidding.

"Stand back," he calls loudly, from the cellar. "I am coming in."

I hold my breath. Has he-? Is he-?

"Wormtail?" Father calls, irritated. "What news?"

"All fine!" calls back a voice that sounds almost exactly like Wormtail's.

With that reassurance, Aunt Bella hefts the sword, then hands it to the goblin. "Is this the real sword of Gryffindor?"

"Give me a minute," the goblin says, calmer than even Mother is talking to Aunt Bella. "I must concentrate." With that, he sits on the floor, bending his head over the sword.

A bored look crosses Aunt Bella's face, and she turns to Hermione. "_Crucio_."

Hermione screams, screams for a long, long minute, and- _curse me for not thinking of this before! "Stupefy."_

Aunt Bella steps back from Hermione's unconscious body. "A _real_ witch could take the pain," she sneers. She turns to the goblin. "Well? True sword or no?"

I can barely breathe. Will he give them away? If he does, Hermione will surely be tortured again. _Please. Please don't let him. Say it's a fake. Say it's a fake. Say_

"It is a fake," Griphook states.

Aunt Bella narrows her eyes. "Are you quite sure?"

"Yes."

I sigh in relief, then stiffen as my aunt says "Good" and carelessly slashes the goblin's face. He cries out and falls. She kicks him aside. "Now, we call the Dark Lord!" She slides her fingers up her sleeve to touch the Mark branded on her arm.

She smiles contentedly. "Greyback, if you want the Mudblood, take her now."

"No!" My cry is covered by Ron's powerful "NOOOOOOO!" as he bursts into the room. Aunt Bella barely has time to look shocked before he yells "_Expelliarmus!_" and her wand practically flies into Potter's hand.

"_Stupefy!_" Potter yells. Father collapses.

I shoot a Scourgify at him, saying the spell under my breath. The light is green, so if anyone confronts me I can say it was a Killing Curse.

Mother and Greyback cast real Killing Curses. Potter jumps behind the sofa.

"STOP OR SHE DIES!" Aunt Bella bellows.

I freeze. So does Ron. Aunt Bella is holding her knife to _myGuinevere, myJuliet, myChristine, my _Hermione's throat. "Drop your wands, or you see how filthy her blood really is." Aunt Bella's voice is dangerously low.

I almost drop my wand before I remember: Aunt Bella thinks I'm on her side.

"I said drop them!"

I flinch, seeing blood appear on Hermione's throat. _I'm glad she's still unconscious._

"All right!" Potter yells, he and Weasley both dropping their- or rather, Wormtail's and Aunt Bella's- wands.

"Draco, pick them up. Your death approaches, Harry Potter! The Dark Lord is coming!"

I wish I could turn invisible. I can feel them glaring hatred at me. And, though she's unconscious, I can feel GuinevereHermione hating me as well.

* * *

**A/N: Was that enough of a cliffhanger? Everyone knows what happens, at least so far as the rest of the book is concerned, but how is it from Draco's point of view? Will I go off canon? And will anyone besides Elizabeth ever review this story? I can't wait to find out!**

**Constructive criticism would be much appreciated! I'm always trying to improve my writing, so if you let me know what you liked and disliked, that would be really helpful. Thanks!**

**P.S. I literally check obsessively for new reviews sometimes. Indulge me?**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Elizabeth. Thank you so much for your reviews. They are extremely annoying. You keep making me Think Of Things, and I find myself revising to answer your questions and incorporate your suggestions. Please don't stop. That is all.**

**Disclaimer: By now I don't even own all the ideas in this story, so I give up.**

* * *

FOUR

"Now," Aunt Bella says almost conversationally, "Cissy, I think we should tie these two up again. Greyback can take care of the Mudblood. After what you have done Greyback, I am sure the Dark Lord would let you have her."

_What's that noise?_ I look up to see our chandelier loosening itself- _above Aunt Bella_.

With a great _cre-e-e-ACK!_, it-

_NO!_ I collapse into myself, hardly noticing the blood streaming down my face.

_She's under the chandelier. It crushed her. She-she's...no._

This is the first of my lives since Arthur where she's died before me. I can't believe it's happening again.

I barely notice the wands- Potter's, Weasley's, and mine- yanked out of my hand, but I look up when Potter yells, "_Stupefy_!" to see Greyback flying.

_What? Werewolves can't fly_, rises to the surface of my thoughts.

Then Greyback crashes into the floor.

Mother grabs my arm, pulling me toward the doorway. "Dobby!" she cries. "_You_ dropped it?"

There's no question about what _it_ she means, since its crystal wreckage covers our dining room.

Dobby points a shaking finger at Mother. "You must not hurt Master Harry," he orders.

"Kill him!" Aunt Bella cries.

I blink, shocked, as Mother's wand flies out of her hand.

"You little piece of-" Aunt Bella roars. "How dare you take your mistress's wand?" Yet she's still frozen, unable or unwilling to move toward the little elf.

"Dobby is a free elf!" Dobby declares. "Dobby has come to save Harry Potter and his friends!"

Aunt Bella and Mother both blink at him.

Potter throws a wand to Weasley, who's supporting Hermione with one arm (oh, _bless_ him!). "Ron, catch! GO!" He tugs the goblin from under the chandelier with inhuman strength, grabs Dobby, and spins, Disapparating.

I catch a flicker of movement from the corner of my eye, then Aunt Bella's knife flashes past me, _into_ the Disapparition.

Into Dobby.

And then they're gone.

Oh, God, I hope they're all right. Father, Aunt Bella, and maybe even Mother would all kill me if they knew I hoped the Boy Who Lived and his friends are all right.

No. Father would kill me. Aunt Bella would torture me into insanity, _then_ kill me.

The next second, Weasley is Disapparating with Hermione. I watch them go, blowing her a kiss as they vanish.

* * *

**A/N: Oh, by the way, I now have my Apparition Licence! Or, the Muggle version, at any rate. I can legally drive! Yay me! (Note to all future drivers out there- squishing a cone is an automatic fail. Not squishing a cone, however, is not an automatic pass.)**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Why is no one reviewing any more? What did I do wrong? Will this chapter help?**

**Disclaimer: If I were JK Rowling, Dramione would be canon. Draw from that what conclusion you will.**

* * *

FIVE

That night, I'm brushing my teeth when Snape appears in the mirror.

I turn. "Urheher? Ihat yuera' Ho'har?"

Snape raises an eyebrow at me.

I take the toothbrush out, rinse my mouth out, and repeat myself. "Professor, I thought you were at Hogwarts?"

"I was. That is, until I got word that your family had let Potter escape. And not only that, but you were bested by a _house-elf_."

I lower my head, so he won't see my satisfaction.

Snape glances around, takes out his wand, and murmurs something under his breath. Then he looks at me. "Draco," he says, "do you really think I'm fool enough to not recognize the look of a boy in love?"

Crap.

* * *

R

* * *

"And you're...secretly a…"

"Yes."

"And the Dark Lord thinks you're working for him, and that they think you're working for them pretending to work for him."

"Yes."

"So...why?"

Snape shuts down. "That is none of your business."

I realize two things at once.

One, I have leverage over him. At any time, I can tell the Dark Lord that his secret agent is really working for the Order. (Although, Snape is the one with the Mark, the one more likely to be believed.)

Two, this means he'll know things. About her.

_I have a way to know if she's safe._

"What is it?" Snape snaps.

I stare at him. "Huh?"

"Your question. Spit it out."

I take a deep breath. "Hermione Granger."

"What about her?" Suddenly, Snape's expression changes. "Oh no."

I nod. "Is she-"

"She's safe," Snape confirms.

I sigh in relief.

"At a Weasley residence."

I scowl, but even her location does nothing to diminish my joy, because _she's safe_ _safe safe safe_.

"But…" Snape hesitates.

"If you're about to tell me that Potter or Weasley isn't safe, go for it," I say. "I'll be thrilled."

Snape shakes his head. "The Golden Trio is perfectly fine, physically. However,"

My heart sinks as if it already knows what he'll say.

"the house-elf died."

"_Dobby?_" Oh, god. All those times when I was young, I was only ever cruel to him. I never appreciated him. He came when I asked him to, and now he's-he's-

I can't cry. Not in front of my Head of House, not ever. Malfoys do not shed tears for anything. Malfoys do not care about servants. Malfoys do not help the Dark Lord's enemies. Malfoys most certainly do not fall in love with Muggle-born enemies of the Dark Lord.

But late that night, alone in my room, I'm not Draco Malfoy, just Arthur, Paris, Erik, Draco. Not a wizard pledged to kill for a tyrant. Just a boy who's made some mistakes.

I'm just me.

And Just Me's pillow quickly becomes damp.

* * *

**A/N: Also, if I wrote Harry Potter, I would not have had the heart to kill Dobby. It nearly broke my heart writing those last few paragraphs. I'm seriously considering going off canon solely so I don't have to write Fred's death.**


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